Bellatrix was in a nervous flutter after reading the note that Professor Riddle had slipped into her hand before class ended. She dashed back to her dormitory alone, took a quick shower and set to work taming her curls. Once she was satisfied with her hair, she took out her huge assortment of makeup brushes, powders, creams, and ointments. The final spell-blended look she created was seamless, vanishing every pore on her skin and leaving only a radiant glow.
Rummaging through her closet, Bellatrix reached for an expensive lingerie set consisting of a black lace balconette bra and matching thong, purchased from a boutique in Diagon Alley called "Midnight Witch." Druella would have been positively scandalized by the inclusion of such items in Bellatrix's wedding trousseau; Bellatrix had thought them perfectly suited to wear under her school uniform.
She hastily stuffed a few personal items and a half-written Transfiguration essay into her book bag, yanked on her cardigan, skirt, and school robes, then made her way into the Common Room. As she was about to cross the entrance portal, she was nearly knocked over by Andromeda who was walking the other way.
"I'm amazed you've remembered the direction to the Dungeons, given how little anyone has seen of you here lately," Bella chided.
"Yes, well, being socially ostracized does tend to have that effect," Andie said with a dour expression plastered over her face.
"Andie, nobody is telling you that you need to stay away," Bellatrix insisted, taking a few steps closer to her sister, "You're always welcome here, but we will defend our culture and way of life if you insult us."
"Yeah, toujours pur and all that crap," Andie said, sucking in her bottom lip uncomfortably.
Bellatrix tried to appeal to her sister by taking a gentler tone, "Oh Andie, I wish you wouldn't make everything into a rebellion."
"Well, I'll drop it for the moment. Where are you headed, anyway?" she asked.
"Just going to dinner," Bellatrix replied, her pulse notably quickening.
"All that effort just to go to dinner, huh?" Andie cocked an eyebrow.
Andromeda suspected that Bellatrix's magically-enhanced look suggested something other than sitting at the Slytherin Table to eat mashed potatoes and pumpkin pasties.
"If you really must know, I'm trying to drive Rodolphus mad with lust so that he'll be easier to bend to my will," she said with a self-satisfied smirk.
It wasn't such a terrible idea, she reasoned, for those closest to her to assume that there was some kind of understanding between herself and Rodolphus. He already thought there was, and it might draw suspicion away from her real romantic entanglement with Professor Riddle.
"Can't you go for one day without scheming?" Andie challenged.
"No," Bellatrix said, and added with a cheeky grin, "what would be the fun in that?"
"Alright. See you around, maybe." Andie sighed deeply, and disappeared into the dormitories.
Bellatrix immediately cast the disillusionment charm on herself, unwilling to risk encountering anyone else on her way to Professor Riddle's private quarters. She stopped at the portrait of Merlin, suddenly realizing she had no idea how to enter. Tentatively, she tapped her wand on the picture frame, expecting nothing to happen. To her great surprise, the hidden door swung wide open. Perhaps he'd enchanted it to grant access to approved guests, she mused.
His rooms were simple but elegant. The main living area had two leather armchairs facing a black marble fireplace. On a table in one corner, she noticed a wizarding radio and record player; next to this she saw a worktable with various vials and potions ingredients. She wondered what kinds of potions Tom Riddle brewed that he would need to keep secret, and what records he listened to when he was alone. It felt more surreal for Bellatrix to be in such an intimate space than to be in his own residence, if only because this is where he presumably slept most nights during the school term.
She nearly jumped when Professor Riddle himself materialized behind her.
"Good evening, Bella," he said, planting a small kiss on her neck.
"I was just admiring your rooms… my Lord," she said, settling on the correct form of address. She wouldn't be getting away with calling him Tom any time soon, and Professor wouldn't be right, either. Surely being her Lord was the ultimate power trip, more than merely being her teacher.
"And I was just admiring you," he said, still gripping her neck with one hand, as he moved his other hand beneath her skirt to graze the flimsy fabric of her knickers.
"Please don't vanish these ones, my Lord. They were even more expensive than the others," Bellatrix pleaded.
Tom chuckled, reminded that she was only seventeen, and could be just as materialistic as others her age.
"Are you going to give me what already belongs to me, and what will never belong to your future husband?" he pressed, taking a more serious tone with her.
"You know how much I've been looking forward to our 'carnal union,' my Lord," Bellatrix answered, recalling the words he'd scribbled on her essay while dragging a thumb enticingly across her lips.
He had gotten off in the shower to the idea of taking the virginity of an aristocratic daughter of the House of Black more than once this week.
His own first time had been with Marceline Nott in 1944. What he remembered most of that event was how angry he felt that she had cried after. Tom enjoyed tears of pain from a woman, but these were tears shed because she'd yielded to him in a moment of weakness and allowed her purity to be besmirched by a half-blood. Poor Marceline languished for years, never quite the same after her brush with handsome, manipulative Tom Riddle.
In some ways, he saw the ghost of Marceline in Bellatrix. She had figured out Riddle wasn't a magical name, even if she couldn't admit the truth of what he was to herself. Tom usually abjured all sentimentality, but allowed himself a brief moment to reflect upon his dramatic rise from upstart half-blood orphan to powerful Lord.
Snapping out of his reverie, he began to speak carefully, "While reading your essay it occurred to me that I might perform a ritual with you. But the side effects would be…too conspicuous for my liking. It would strengthen my magic, but also sap you of much of yours. And I don't want you to be scared out of your wits, either."
"I'm not scared easily," Bellatrix said as she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her forehead into his chest, "I wouldn't be here if I was, my Lord."
"I don't think it is advisable at the present moment," he said.
Bellatrix pouted like a child who had been ordered to put away her toys. Tom suddenly felt very conscious that he was 41 years old. Her reaction struck a dissonant chord with the bloom of ripe womanhood suggested by her thin, but unmistakably feminine figure. He had done much to overcome his own susceptibility to time's ravages—he was immortal, for Merlin's sake—but this didn't mean he was immune to the kinds of cultural conditioning that branded whatever this was as something taboo.
A delicious, soul-blackening taboo.
"We might be able to perform a ritual after the Halloween Ball, if all goes well. For Samhain. That would make the binding particularly powerful, more than any other day of the year. You'd donate a few drops of blood to make my magic even stronger, wouldn't you, my Bella?"
"More than a few drops. I believe the prophecy said my soul," she smiled.
"And that Bella, is why I have decided you are mine. You will be reporting to my office twice weekly to perform various duties. If anyone asks, you tell them that you are my research assistant. Hogwarts is going to be offering a new training program that I personally pitched to Dumbledore, and that the old coot was fool enough to approve."
"When do I start?"
"When I say you do," he said, now sitting in one of the leather chairs and pulling her onto his lap. "I'll summon you, don't worry."
He pressed another kiss on her neck, then peppered a series of kisses downward toward her chest. Bellatrix shivered and shed her top, allowing him access to mark more of her chest. She began kissing him back, and soon they were locked at the mouth for several minutes.
"I'm scared I'll wake up tomorrow and find out this was all just a beautiful dream. I know you probably wouldn't care about the details, but I think the first time I dreamed about you was after you came to dinner at my uncle Orion and Aunt Walburga's. I was about 13, my sisters and Sirius were too little to sit at the table, and Regulus was just a baby. I didn't know who you were then, but I knew you were someone powerful."
"I dined with quite a few pureblood families in those years to assess which of the old Houses would support me. It was probably one of the brief trips I made to Britain while living abroad. Your family always tried to stay aloof from politics. Though I knew what Walburga was like, a deeply unpleasant witch, but very amenable to our ideology. Your grandfather Pollux was also amenable, but unwilling to publically support us. Arcturus, he's another who wouldn't commit at first, but I've since wrangled him in. But your support, my Bella, will be worth more than any of theirs."
"I'm glad that you think so, my Lord."
He then realized that he hadn't followed up on the most pertinent part of her revelation, at least for the present task at hand.
"You dreamed about me when you were 13? That was very naughty of you." His hand travelled back under her skirt, and trailed up the inside of her thigh.
Bellatrix giggled before gently correcting, "They were innocent dreams about you coming to take me away to go on travels. It all started as a way for me to cope with my horrible life. I tried to escape into books and dreams."
"How horrible could it have been growing up in luxury at Black Manor?"
"I know it must seem like I had a good childhood on paper, my Lord, but my father drank heavily. He was always breaking things and screaming at us. Cissy is the only one of us he's never throttled or Cruciated. She's always been so flower-like. He thinks women are supposed to be decorative objects; sometimes his mistresses would even come to stay at the Manor, and he'd have them sit at the table to humiliate mother."
Professor Riddle was silent for a moment, thinking about how this confession could be useful to his present and future objectives.
"Your father put you under the Cruciatus?"
"Yeah. I'm strong. I could withstand the pain. And he hasn't done it in years. Not since I've shared my agreement with his views on you, my Lord."
He felt a lump in his throat, not exactly regret, but something that would presumably be much stronger in one who hadn't split their soul apart as he had done, concerning how much Bellatrix's past played into her willingness to suffer pain from him.
"Come, Bella," he said simply, gesturing for her to stand up and follow him into the bedroom.
The walls were lit by silver sconces and painted midnight blue. Simple, dark wooden furniture matched the dark frame of the bed. He lifted her onto the bed by her waist and pulled her pleated skirt all the way up over her hips. Tom grinned when he saw the fading purple-yellow bruises that his hexes had left on her thighs and buttocks. Whether it had not occurred to her to heal the marks, or whether she abstained from healing them because she awaited his permission, Tom was pleased that her body still wore the evidence of his branding.
"You like the pain," he said, stroking the bruises gently. It hadn't been phrased as a question.
"I…do. I enjoyed that."
"Not today, but someday I would like to see how far you would allow me to go in hurting you. There are many spells I could use, although the muggle way has its own appeal. I have a feeling that you would allow me to go so much farther than most, my Bella."
Bellatrix shivered at that thought as he unclasped her bra and flipped her over so he could see the soft swells of her breasts as they tumbled free. Tom drew circles around each pert nipple with his tongue, causing her to inhale sharply. Not content with licking, he began to twist and bite them, causing Bellatrix to writhe in pain that mingled with pleasure. He felt his cock twinge and begin to rise up in the tenting of his trousers.
"Can I play with it?" Bellatrix asked.
"Very well," Tom said, and his belt hit the floor with a sonorous clink. He stepped out of his trousers and pulled it out; Bellatrix stared at it for the second time ever, but this time all she felt was intense want. She tried to mentally estimate by comparison to her wand that was 10 ¾ inches, and she thought that it was at least 7 inches. She immediately set to work using both her hands, tugging at the base of his cock while she twirled her other hand over the sensitive ridge. She switched to applying gentle pressure with her mouth, until Bellatrix felt a tightening in her core and the beginnings of an ache that needed relief.
"Please, I want to be fucked by you now, Master."
"Say that last part again," he urged, his eyes widening.
"Master?" she repeated. "I would like to call you Master, at least sometimes. It makes sense if I am to be your servant."
"Bella," he said, his hands now desperately gliding across her stomach to the place her pelvic bones converged, "You are a very good girl to say that."
She would need to be properly relaxed to take all of him. He could've just used a lubrication charm, but he never liked doing that; it felt like a shortcut. Most women, and Bellatrix was no exception here, were already drenched by the time he had them cornered in his bed anyway.
Although, he did derive a unique sense of accomplishment from knowing that he could bring a witch to climax with only his mouth.
He muttered an Incarcerous and thick silver cords wrapped themselves around Bellatrix's tiny wrists, binding them to the wood headboard. She immediately smiled up at him.
He lathed his tongue along Bellatrix's entrance in slow, broad strokes, before bringing it higher up to concentrate on her clit. Her body rose up off the bed as if trying to mutiny against the restraints that held her after each time he passed over her sensitive bundle of nerves. She instinctively snaked her hands through his hair in a futile attempt to take back some level of control over the sensations that wracked her body. Bellatrix dug in her fingertips even more tightly so that she was gripping his scalp as his tongue worked in faster and shorter movements. Finally, she rocked herself over the edge against his mouth and collapsed in breathy moans.
Bellatrix could not form speech for several moments after her climax, but finally managed to say, "Thank you, Master."
The expression he wore was quite possibly the smuggest she'd ever seen on his face.
"Spread your legs for me," he ordered.
Still reeling, she laid on her back with her knees apart and acquiesced to his order.
He lined his cock up with her sodden entrance, and with a single thrust broke through her barrier. Bellatrix immediately felt a stinging as her slick inner walls stretched to accommodate his size. It did not hurt quite as much as she had thought, probably since he had already gotten her ready, but the first several thrusts were indisputably painful.
"Bella. You have the prettiest tight little cunt I've ever fucked" he groaned.
He began to pick up the pace, helped along by the lubrication her body generated. While the pain never dissipated completely, she began to enjoy the sensation of being stretched and filled up by his thick girth. She let him grab her by the ankles and position them over his shoulders. Each time he entered her, she felt as though he was going to be impaled straight through her insides. His would occasionally grab at a ringlet of her hair, or scratch her collarbone.
The spot he was now hitting deep inside of her felt like it was connected to the other bundle of nerves that felt so good. She wondered if she was allowed to rub her clit to complement his efforts, or if her Master had to give her explicit permission? She didn't feel confident enough to ask.
"Such a greedy girl. Isn't my cock enough to get you off, little Bella?" he asked, violently pushing into her mind.
She murmured something unintelligible, but he saw one word, 'no.' He responded by slapping her cheek hard with his open palm.
"Fucking brat! Why, when I have given you so much, do you insist on being so insubordinate, hmm? I didn't have to use my mouth on you, and I don't have to do this now, either."
He seemed to be concentrating on performing some kind of wandless magic, while still burying himself to the hilt in her, now using his toned forearms for leverage as he continued to fuck her unrelentingly. She suddenly felt a fluttering pressure on her nub that combined with the pummelling of his cock brought her close to her second orgasm.
"Who owns you?
"You do, Master!" Bellatrix felt so close to exploding that she would've told him anything he wanted to hear, even that he owned her soul for thousands of years in perpetuity, if it would speed up her climax.
"What is my real name?" This was a test, and he had her so desperate for release that she would not choose incorrectly.
"Lord Voldemort, Master!" she screamed his name like a benediction, toppling over the edge of her own peak as he continued to thrust in her.
"That's my very good girl" he said, and each aftershock of her orgasm felt like it was drawing forth some of his own magic into her body.
"I'm close. Should I paint your pretty little tits with my come? I've already christened the back of your throat; I know you're not the sort of girl who would let any go to waste, are you Bella?"
"No, never."
"Maybe I'll even come on your face. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"If it pleases you, Master," she replied.
"Finite" he said, and the bindings disappeared from her wrists. He rolled off her body, and Bellatrix regarded him expectantly.
"Down on your knees," he barked, rising from the bed to his full height.
Bellatrix proceeded to kneel in front of him on the rug. His gaze was fixed firmly on her, and she could see the straining of his composure and the slackening of his lips as he stroked his cock to completion. Streams of hot come landed on her lips, her nose, even her eyelashes. She'd closed her eyes at the final moment, but her Master used his large palm to smear his seed all over her face and into her wild curls that had become tangled during sex.
"If you could only see how pretty I have painted you, my Bella. Mine."
His words made her feel exuberant, despite the unpleasantness of the sticky mess on her face.
"Don't worry, I shall clean you up soon. As much as I enjoy the sight of you wearing my come as a halo, it would not be right to make the other girls in your dorm jealous. I know of two girls who would be very upset that they weren't fucked by the school's most shaggable professor."
"What?"
"That's what the note said, the one Miss Culpepper passed in class. 'Tom Riddle is the most shaggable professor at Hogwarts.' They had no idea that I was using legilimency, and it would have been mortifying for them to know. Maybe they deserved to be mortified."
"How dare they pass such vulgar notes about you, my Lord," Bellatrix tutted, "As accurate as their message was."
He laughed, casting a silent Scourgify so that Bellatrix was now barefaced.
"You didn't need to wear so much makeup, Bella. From now on, you will only paint your lips so that the rest of your skin will be fresh for me to stain."
"Yes, my Lord."
"Come, Bella, you needn't leave just yet," he said, and pulled Bellatrix nearer to him as they lay side by side in the bed.
They were both still naked and she buried her nose into the crook of his neck, and draped her arms across his chest. She could smell the scent of sex mingled with cedar (or was it pine?), eucalyptus and inky parchment. Bellatrix wished she could remain by his side like a curled-up kitten until graduation, not leaving his bed unless it was for improving her duelling skills, or gaining knowledge of the Dark Arts. She had been in the same spot, snuggling up to him while he graded a stack of essays, occasionally commenting to her that an essay was so bad that it deserved a "Troll," the legendary designation below Dreadful.
Suddenly, she realized that it was nearly 10 p.m., and that she would be out after curfew.
He tucked a loose curl behind her ear and kissed her goodnight on the forehead.
Episkey, he muttered, remembering the small bites on her neck and chest.
"Thank you, my Lord."
"One more thing before you leave—this is important. You will not be spending any time alone with that gang of boys. Yes, they all have ambitions of joining me, and a few might even make the cut, but if they are anything like their fathers, they will be salivating over you like a piece of meat. If Lestrange is like his father, he'll play the unassuming fool, just waiting for an opportunity to strike. It's best you don't encourage him."
"Rod's getting his dad's lawyer to draw up a betrothal. It might be a useful cover so that no one suspects us. I'll make sure he knows I'd hex his balls off if he tries to touch me." She considered her words before adding, "Evan's my cousin, my Lord, so he is safe to be around."
"Yes, well, that hasn't stopped your family in the past," he laughed dryly.
"That's gross. Can't I practice duelling if Evan is there? They respect him, and he's like my big brother. Please, my Lord?"
"Hm. I suppose. But remember what I said."
"I know. I'm yours."
Lying awake under her covers in her dorm that night, Bellatrix considered the fact that she was no longer a virgin, and also willingly calling her Professor, an undercover Dark wizard, 'Master' despite having always hated the attitudes of men who thought they owned their wives and mistresses. She reminded herself that he would be studied someday in History of Magic as the one who restored the magical population to their rightful place. It was only objectionable when men of mediocrity tried to exert control, as they had no real power. But her Master would guide her, and help her become powerful like him.
A/N: Whew, that was quite something to write. Perhaps it comes as a shock that Tom is somewhat generous in the bedroom. It surprised me when I started to write him this way, but then it occurred to me that he has to be the best at everything, and that would be one way to make a woman insanely deferential and loyal to him. Of course, he plans to test how cruel he can be to Bellatrix in later chapters, but within her own limits. I don't like to write torture, so he will not behave like a total sadist. He does feel more connected to the intact human part of his soul when he is near her, even if it isn't quite a romantic feeling (yet).
Also, I provided a little background about Bellatrix's upbringing- would love feedback on if this is something I should delve more into? Maybe a flashback of her and Andie? (I could only bring Andie back briefly here, but she is going to start gathering evidence to try to take down Tom). I've read fics where their father is a monster and abuses all the girls (physically, emotionally, sexually) but I didn't want him to be so bad that Tom would have to kill him. Cygnus basically needs to check into a wizard rehab.
Please review if you enjoyed! I appreciate all reviews, although I am unfortunately unable to respond to anonymous reviews.
